


I Don't Belong Here

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Asphyxiation, DadSchlatt, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hybrid Toby Smith | Tubbo, It's dark but not that dark honestly, Kidnapping, Minor Injuries, Possessive Behavior, Protectiveness, That should be obvious, Toby Smith | Tubbo-centric, Trauma, Tschlatt, Villain Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), but definitely not a good dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27620099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He didn’t know what he expected to see when he looked up, but it definitely wasn’t Schlatt looking right at him like a long lost fucking artifact.“I was right.”Tubbo felt himself grow more anxious by the second. “..right about what, Schlatt?”The half-ram scoffed. “Jesus kid, you seriously haven’t noticed? It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten yourself killed out ‘ere.”He didn’t have time to wonder what he meant, because the man wrapped his arms around him in a warm embrace and deeply hummed.“You’re my son.”---Tubbo was his son. If this is what it took to protect him, then so be it.
Relationships: Jschlatt & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 41
Kudos: 580
Collections: Anonymous





	I Don't Belong Here

**Author's Note:**

> not me starting another story before finishing my old one LOL .. props to you if you know which one it is, i'd like to argue i write schlatt a specific sorta way.. THIS IS PROBABLY. KINDA OOC? schlatt in canon has more than a few screws loose though despite how methodical he can be so let'sssss just turn that up a couple notches hahaha
> 
> also uhhh warning this is not a happy wholesome dadschlatt story like my other one LOL. the man is kinda out of his mind, consider this a sorta "what if schlatt was the one to lose it rather than wilbur, except wilbur has also lost it, so really everyone has just lost it." man has abandonment issues to the extreme.
> 
> I'll stop ranting though, please heed the warnings. AND SORRY FOR MY WRITING STYLE BEING SO. JOKEY. i cant write drama for the life of me.

Today wasn’t any different than any other day in the cabinet. Tubbo, the brown-haired and bright-eyed “secretary of state”, had been given a seemingly mile long list of mundane tasks he was expected to complete by the week’s end. While his position of power gave him more insight into the enemy’s plans, it also increased his workload tenfold. He was tired. It seemed he was _constantly_ tired. And lucky for him it was Monday, meaning he hadn’t even put a dent in the list of jobs to complete. He absentmindedly wondered if he could somehow get himself sick, and if Schlatt would even care enough to give him the time off. 

Lost in his own mind, he barely noticed himself running into the man-in-question.

With a soft “ouf!”, he stumbled back and caught his footing, snapping out of his daze. He felt like he ran into a brick wall (which was probably just a reflection of his own lack of physical prowess, because everyone knew Schlatt wasn’t known for his fitness.) The man grunted a bit before meeting the boy’s eyes. 

“Christ, kid,” he started, “pay more attention if you’re gonna be walkin’ around halls all dead-like. This suit is new.” 

Tubbo prepared his apology, but the man continued with a short awkward cough. “You good?”

He nodded frantically, “yeah, yeah, of course, Schlatt! Very very sorry. Seems I’ve forgotten my uh, er - morning wake-up tea..!” _What the hell was he saying._

Clearly it was a bad lie ( _who the hell would even believe that?_ ), because Schlatt stares at him for what feels like a minute, looking him up and down like he’s picking apart each bone in his body. Or watching the blood flow through every vein in his skin.

Whatever the case, he doesn’t enjoy it.

Before he can speak again, Schlatt gives a quirk of his brow, seemingly awoken from his stupor. “Right, _Wake-up tea_ ,” he shrugs, “I’ve heard of weirder british shit.” The larger man brings a heavy hand down on his shoulder to tap it twice before beginning to walk past him. “Take care of yourself, Tubbo, and tell me if somethin’s up. Can’t have my right hand man walking around catatonic.” 

Tubbo nods again, “right, Schlatt! Got it!” With the president now continuing on his walk through the hallway, he picks up his own pace to get away from the awkward conversation. He let go of a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Combing his hand through his hair and away from his face, he glowers in the lightened atmosphere. Finally, he reaches the comfort of his room.

You see, something had been up recently. It wasn’t his workload getting worse, or Tommy and Wilbur getting too close to L’Manberg for comfort. It was interactions with the one man in charge of the place they were exiled from. He was never on good terms with Schlatt to begin with. Their relationship was rocky and kept to short sentences being exchanged. He didn’t previously look up to the man like Tommy did, or go way back with him like Wilbur - in fact, they hadn’t even known eachother until he showed up and suddenly decided to run for president. 

However, being in the cabinet meant that they spoke to eachother much more frequently. Or at least, Schlatt spoke to him. Being appointed his ‘right hand man’ also probably had something to do with it, but whenever he thought about those words he felt a pit grow in his stomach. Things were fine for a long time, but recently he’d been worse for wear and Schlatt’s behavior somehow made it seem like _he_ was the one with constant dizziness and headaches. 

‘Overworked, underpaid’ is how Fundy had put it. He had to agree - _he_ was the one being ran half to death because of his busy schedule, so why was Schlatt acting like he was the one feeling unwell? 

Longer stares, more ‘friendly’ touches, it was, to put it frankly: ridiculously nervewracking. During cabinet meetings Schlatt would meet his gaze awkwardly or look at him while he thought he was looking away. When they were in close proximity of eachother, Schlatt seemed to hover as close as possible and ruffle his hair - a figure looming over him like he was above him. When Schlatt got upset, it always seemed to end with Tubbo having to comfort the man. Schlatt, Schlatt, Schlatt.

He felt like he was losing his goddamn mind, to be frank.

He was never a super curious guy, though. If the man wanted to act mysteriously then it wouldn’t be a problem, right? He couldn’t do anything to him. Or at least, he wanted to assume he wouldn’t. So instead of focusing on whatever weird personal dilema Schlatt was going through, Tubbo vowed to focus on his own health. And that had to start with him confronting Schlatt about his workload. He just said he should tell him if something’s bothering him, yeah? He’d do that then!

With his mind made up, he slumped into his bed to nap for an hour before officially waking up for the day (early morning meetings were always the _worst_ ). He’d finish a few of his tasks and then during lunch he would tell Schlatt about his troubles. Maybe his weird behavior was just him being friendly, in his own weird, somewhat disturbing way. He supposed it made sense: businessmen weren’t known for being the friendly type.

That was it, then. Rubbing his face tiredly, he noted that he’d need to shave soon. He let the thought fade from his mind and snuggled into his bedsheets, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

  
...  
  


The time had arrived. 

Admittedly, he was probably way more nervous than he ought to be. If his previous assumption was correct then Schlatt would take it easy on him, yeah? Surely with his own personal health (no insult to him, mind you) would make him empathize with his situation a bit more. And Schlatt was a work-focused guy. He wouldn’t be able to get anything done with a piercing headache, and it would only make government ordeals more tedious.

He fixed the tie around his collar, and straightened the vest of his suit. After grabbing a snack for the road he made his way out of the whitehouse and into town, admiring the familiar sight of L’Manberg - the bakery, the van, the podium. Even if things under Schlatt’s administration were a bit … _unwell,_ it was still a comforting place for him to be. 

Almost as if he jinxed it, the swelling and pain around his head suddenly shocked him. He winced and groaned a bit, grabbing his head and trying to sooth the muscles. Man, he really needed to get through this. 

Despite the pain, he smiled as hard as he could. _Keep this up, Tubbo, and your brain’s dopamine will carry you through the entire week._

…

Lunch definitely could not have arrived sooner. His whole body felt like it was going to collapse. First he had to visit Eret to discuss _‘foreign affairs’_ , then he had to clean up rubble from one of the spots that previously supported L’Manberg’s wall, and _then_ he had to sneak out to discuss Pogtopian plans with Wilbur and Tommy. After that ordeal, he had to work on expanding the podium and decorating it with gold, at Schlatt’s personal request. And then he needed to leave an eviction sign at Niki’s bakery, which he _obviously_ didn’t do because how the hell could he? 

But the worst part of it all was the walking. He wanted to curl into bed and never step foot on the ground again.

Why he didn’t own some kind of mount was beyond him. 

What was also beyond him was the fact that there were no painkillers in the entirety of the goddamn world.

He sighed. Enough of that, a few minutes from now would either be the best or worst part of his week. He sat in the White House’s dining room, waiting for Schlatt to arrive with a drink and whatever food he decided to grab while he was out and about. 1:30 pm everyday he would do so without fail. If he had to give the man any credit it would be for his punctuality.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Just as predicted, Schlatt walked through the door with a tired look and a furrowed brow. He must not have noticed Tubbo yet, so the boy decided to make himself known.

“Hi Schlatt!” 

The man flinched, his back turned to him and hand closing the door. “...Tubbo. _Jesus_.” He paused. “The hell are you doin’ in here?” 

With a thud, the dining room door shut. Schlatt walked closer towards the long table in the middle of the room. Slightly nervous, Tubbo began. “Well! I was uh, wo-wondering if I could talk to you about a couple things!” 

Schlatt looked over him with those same scrutinizing eyes. He tried to brush it off. “Yeah. Alright. What were you wantin’ ta talk about, kid?” The man’s accent was thick in his voice. 

Tubbolet out a breath. “W- Well sir,” he started, “I’ve been a bit under the weather lately? Not due to you or anything, of course! But I uh, wanted to request- uh, yknow? Ask if I could just-“ 

“Tubbo, relax and say what you’re gonna.” 

“Right, sorry! … I was going to ask if I could get some time off. Or a lighter workload! I just can’t really keep up with it all…” he trailed off. Across the room, Schlatt’s expression was curious, but he had a slight smile. He walked closer to Tubbo, dramstically closing the distance between them.

“Y’know Tubbo,” His hand rested on his chin, stopping in his place and looking down at the boy. “I’ve been wonderin’ about that. Tell me more about how you’ve been feelin’ lately, won’t you?”

Tubbo smiled softly in relief, nodding his head. He was listening. “Yeah! Well, it’s basically just been a bunch of headaches-“ 

_“Headaches,”_

“Yeah! Around my forehead. And like, a really really sorta.. sharp pain? Like,” He motioned to the area around his hairline, “in this area, y’know? I’m really not sure what it’s all about. I hope I haven’t, like, caught a disease or anything. That would probably suck. I’d have to give my bees to Niki or something. No offense to Tommy, but he doesn’t have a very good track record when it comes to keeping his pets out of harm’s way…” 

Tubbo stopped his rambling to focus on the matter at hand, looking up at Schlatt again. He hummed and nodded, walked closer and closer once again until he was right in front of him. “Schlatt?” he muttered. The man was looking over him, or at least he assumed he was, given he couldn’t see the man’s face because they were so close and he was so tall. 

A rough hand rested on his hair. Instead of the usual playful ruffle, it was more methodical and precise. 

Finally, he broke the silence.

“... when was the last time you combed your hair, Tubbo?”

…

Weird question, but alright. “Uh,” he thought for a second, “a week ago?” 

Schlatt let out a curt laugh, but it didn’t seem like he found anything funny. “I see.” 

The hands continued to comb as though trying to feel for something, until finally they brushed against a certain spot that sent a wave of pain crashing through him. 

“ _-A-Augh_!” 

Schlatt moved his hand away, taking a step back. Tubbo winced, stumbled back, and nearly teared up at the pain, not noticing the expression across the older man’s face. It took him a moment to gather himself, and when he did he quickly mumbled an apology for the reaction. 

He didn’t know what he expected to see when he looked up, but it definitely wasn’t Schlatt looking right at him like a long lost fucking artifact. 

_“_ I was right _.”_

Tubbo felt himself grow more anxious by the second. “..right about what, Schlatt?” 

The half-ram scoffed. “Jesus kid, you seriously haven’t noticed? It’s a wonder you haven’t gotten yourself _killed_ out ‘ere.” 

He didn’t have time to wonder what he meant, because the man wrapped his arms around him in a warm embrace and deeply hummed. 

  
  


**“** **_You’re my son._ ** **”**

  
  
  


His heart stopped in his chest. 

This couldn’t be right. A second passed with them like this in silence, then a minute. The air felt thicker than mud. 

“..haha, what, S-Schlatt? Are you, uh, _sure_ you’ve been getting enough sleep? I know people claim we look similar but uh, I’m not - I don’t think,” 

“Tubbo…... _Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo._ ” The man brushed back some of Tubbo’s hair, exposing the small little brown keratin horns that had been growing over the past couple weeks. They were small enough to pass for bumps, unless you carefully examined them. Tubbo wouldn’t have noticed if it wasn’t for the way Schlatt softly outlined one with his pointer finger. His eyes blew wide.

“You’ve got _horns,”_ he lets out a breath, “Like mine, when I was a kid, _haha._ And you’ve got peach fuzz growing on your face. Not to mention…” He trails off like he was about to say something before stopping. “Nevermind. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.” 

“--I... but! _N-no,_ this can’t-”

“Can’t _what?”_ Schlatt laughs, “All the evidence you need is right in front of you Tubbo! God,” 

The man rests his head on top of Tubbo’s hair, careful to avoid the sensitive horns. The brown-haired boy tries everything in his power to avoid sobbing. How could it have taken this long for his body to start these changes? Was it because of how long he’d been around the man? Maybe he could deal with being a hybrid, but he couldn’t deal with being Schlatt’s _son._ _He didn’t want to be anything like him._ This was too much at once. It was _overwhelming_. This isn’t what he came here to do - what he came here to figure out. 

That doesn’t stop the man from continuing. “I can’t believe you’ve been under my nose this whole time. I’ve been _looking,_ you know? I’d been caught up in all the work I was doing…” he pauses before starting again, “but I got a weird feeling around you. And your _scent,_ too. This- this fucking, god… nevermind, you wouldn’t get it... You’re like, what, 14?”

He sniffles, “16.”

“Right. You see, _that’s the problem, Tubbo!_ I don’t even know anything about you.”

Call him spoiled or a brat, but Tubbo knew this wasn’t going to end well, or happily. 

If only he understood just how right he truly was.

The man backs away, looking at Tubbo and bringing a hand up to wipe his wet eyes. His face is of pure adoration, but Tubbo’s is anything but.

He has to speak, to set things straight. “.. L-listen Schlatt,” he starts, “e-e-even if I’m.. by some … _miracle_ , your biological s-,” he has to force it out,” _Son_ , I’m old enough to take care of myself.. I don’t.. I don’t need a father figure in my life.”

Schlatt looks at him with that same unreadable face. He can tell how tense the man is though, like he’s thinking something over. 

Finally, he speaks. 

“I get it, Tubbo. You don’t like me, you don’t want me around, and you especially don’t want me as your Father... I understand.” 

Tubbo finally feels hope. “R-really?” 

With a sigh, he embraces the boy again, this time bringing his larger arms around his neck. “Yeah, _of course._ ” He doesn’t _want_ to feel comforted, but he’s overwhelmed and the shushing noises the older man makes steadies his heart if only a little. They stay like this for a bit, with Tubbo barely noticing the grip growing firmer and tighter. He only notices when it’s already getting hard for him to breathe, and that panic from a second ago comes back in full force. 

“ _S-S-,”_ he chokes, _“Schlatt, T-too tight, I-I can’t..”_

He doesn’t let up.

_“But that’s gonna change, kid_ .” _He can’t breathe,_ “I’m gonna take care of you, like a Father _should… I’m not gonna lose you like I lost everyone else._ ”

  
  


Tubbo’s vision is growing dark. His nails try to claw into the man’s back, but they can’t find any purchase on the slick black suit. _He was fucked._

He was going to be kidnapped, or killed, or tortured, or _something,_ and it was going to be all his fault. He’d let Wilbur and Tommy down, and it was all because he was too focused on everything else to stop for a moment and notice what was happening to _himself._

The last thing he hears is a soft chuckle echoing through the room.

**_“So let’s start makin’ it happen.”_ **

  
  



End file.
